The Grandfather Clock
by Brittanyy
Summary: “I never do Hermione,” the man said. For some reason though, when he said that there was a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. It’s never been this bad before. She usually can ignore any type of remorse- but tonight was different.


_Disclaimer: I own nothing._

The Grandfather Clock

The fire was illuminating brilliant oranges, reds, and yellows as she watched the large flame flicker with such integrity. When she looked incredibly closely though, she could almost see a hint of a blue or purple. Not knowing which, she decided to let the fire burn rather than over analyze it. A log shifted and made the flames flicker at a higher intensity while the crackling sounded like gunshots.

A man with a tall build and reddish-brown hair held a metal stick loosely in his right hand while poking and prodding at the fire. The metal began to shine from the fire's light. As he jabbed the logs and already burnt ashes, he covered his face with his left hand as the smoke escaped from the chimney and the opening in the living room.

Even from where the girl was sitting, which was across the room- she could feel the heat radiating from the fireplace. It was real, and the gray stone surrounding the place was elegant, in a surreal form. Her eyes darted to the grandfather clock not far from the source of light, as she realized the time was going slower than she thought.

The metal stick found its way back to the rack along with all the other tools that laid there unused. The man made his way back to the couch opposite of her, and sat down vigilantly; he seemed uncomfortable in his own home.

She still gazed at the fire as she began crossing her legs in an Indian style leaning back towards the red pillows. He did have an odd taste in home décor. The whole room was wooden. The sound of it isn't very dapper, but accommodated with his choice of furniture colors it really is a clever combination. Not such a usual thing for him.

She took advantage of the overly feather-filled pillows which offered beauty, yes- but more importantly comfort. Leaning now against the pillow, she draped her legs over the arm of the sofa. Not very lady-like one would say.

He was watching her with such precision she began to think holes would begin to burn through her skin. She never did look back though. It just reminded her of this hell-hole she compelled herself to. The door looked awfully comforting in this time. The doorknob was shinning a bright gold matching equally with the fire blazing across the room- she wanted to reach out and touch it.

She would soon, but she had to wait for her strict moment to disembark. The schedule planned out in her mind taunted her. No way would she be early, nor too late…

In the very corner of her dry stare she saw him shift on the couch. Not paying attention to him, she turned her concentration back towards the mahogany clock standing upright against the wall. She wouldn't let him catch her excessive interest in the time.

She grabbed her legs, and curled into a ball. Nothing worked, and it didn't seem possible to get comfortable anymore. Picking at her black pullover her eyes quickly roamed back to the clock.

"Do you have to go out again tonight?" He asked her, the first words spoken from him in a long period of time. She assumed she had been caught gazing at the clock. His face held a saddened look and it almost broke her heart to look at him. She wasn't quite sure whether he believes the whole coworkers-need-me lies.

"Yeah, I do…" She didn't give reasoning. Usually he wouldn't demand one, but in the back of her mind the thought he did have an idea of the happenings upset her more.

"How long are you going to be gone tonight?" He asked as if it were a daily chore. When she looked at him, his eyes flickered back over to the fire he had earlier made. He wasn't looking at her; perhaps the truth they both knew was too stark for either to comprehend.

"I'm not sure," she paused and decided she could make it a quicker night tonight. "I should be back before midnight."

After a minute, she decided to add, "Don't wait up for me though."

"I never do Hermione," the man said. For some reason though, when he said that there was a terrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. It's never been this bad before. She usually can ignore any type of remorse- but tonight was different.

She hugged her legs closer to her body feeling self-cautious more and more as each second ticked by. Watching him, making sure he wasn't looking; she decided to check the grandfather clock one last instant. Thank god that she can read time fast. She didn't feel like breaking him down even more than she has already been doing.

They sat still in silence for a few more minutes until she declared that she should get ready. He didn't say anything or acknowledge her exit from the room.

Hermione stood in front of her mirror evaluating herself. She began justifying everything that was morally wrong with doing what she was about to. Taking a hair band set upon the counter, she quickly threw up her mass of curls, pushed a pin to get the excess bangs away from her face and decided to leave just the way she looked. As of now she didn't care.

"Bye Ron," she said softly grabbing her wand off the table, and having it at the ready.

He said nothing, instead watched as the fire burned away. She stood for a few moments observing him- and he didn't glance back at her. She felt that this was ethically wrong in every aspect…

But she placed her warm hand on the golden door knob and turned it with ease.

**XXX**

After Apparating to the large manor, Hermione slowly walked up the long pathway to the front. Before knocking on the man's door she briefly faltered for a moment feeling as if it were too formal knocking. She didn't really have any other options, so as her fist connected with the door she pounded harder than usual. Afraid that if she didn't pound in a deafening way, that she would wimp-out leaving her to be in an even worse mood than before.

But as he opened the door and looked at her with humor striking his face, she knew why she had arrived to begin with.

"You decided to show up tonight?" Draco Malfoy asked opening the door wide enough to let her in. She walked slowly at first, not that she should. It was really quite cyclical. Deciding not to say much she pushed her wand further down in her pocket.

He took the initiative to begin talking again, "So he let you out tonight?" He asked while undoing his robes and laying them against the stair banister. Her head quickly snapped to glare at him.

"He always lets me out," she had defended Ron, and had no idea why. The man standing right in front of her had raised his eyebrow slightly, but let it go while he walked through to the kitchen. She followed him to the kitchen- not like any lost puppy though.

He pulled out two cups before asking, "Coffee?"

"Why are you making this so casual, Malfoy?" She asked in return. He seemed put-off at first, but then understood what she inquired.

"We're two very casual people, Granger," he remarked smoothly, not turning around as he poured her a cup regardless of her dismissal.

"It's late, I don't want coffee…" She murmured, but he had set the cup in front of her anyways. Looking down on it, she realized he had paid attention to the way she liked it made. Brushing away a thought such as that, she took a sip letting the hot liquid run down her throat.

He took a few drinks while watching her.

"What?"

"Nothing," he claimed but looked away towards his slowly draining cup. She absent mindedly began swirling the dark brown mixture with a spoon he had provided her with earlier.

"You didn't have that look in your eyes that you usually do," he noted while she glanced up from her white cup. The steam that was slowly evaporating from the mug lightly brushed her face.

"The look saying you want to immediately shag… You just look upset. I mean the only reason you come here is to shag, we don't 'confide in each others bloody feelings.' So why are you here tonight?"

"Don't say something in th-that way!" She yelled at first, but the rest of Malfoy's sentence seemed to process inside her mind. "I'm not upset either," she denied too suddenly. He gave her a quizzical look, and she was done for. She had sought out any reasons or excuses but couldn't come up with one. He walked over to her with his own glass and grabbed hers and her spoon delivering them to his sink. He cast a quick cleaning spell over the cups and returned them to the cupboard. She stood up from the stool she sat at before.

"It's getting a little late…" She tried saying, feeling worse and worse every time she thought about watching that old grandfather clock back at home.

"So you came all this way and shared a cup of coffee as if we're good mates and you're leave with nothing? Oh that's just bloody brilliant," he spat, anger pouring from each word spoken. He had startled her for a moment considering he was right behind her. She turned abruptly not aware of the lack of distance the two shared.

But Hermione could tell that Malfoy saw it- the look in her eyes. The look of hunger; and that look that would get her whatever she wanted, whenever. He shared that look equally, wondering why she had wasted all the time putting around here prior.

In one moment they stared, but however in the next moment his hands were grabbing at her face pulling her as close to him as she could be. She heaved with identical force, and he was already biting at her bottom lip.

It's how it happened most of the time anyways.

She let go of everything moral in her life as she pushed him into the side of his staircase while fuming with his annoying shirt buttons. His breathing became heavier, and there was no 'look' shared. No smile visible and nothing that showed intimacy in any way. They resembled animals in a way.

Opening up his shirt, and dragging it off of his broad shoulders she threw it against the ground not really sure where it ended up. He would be able to find it later or order an elf to do so. She felt slightly more upset after that though, but as his tongue explored the inner workings of her mouth any coherent thinking was fully vanished.

Her hands roamed over his bare chest and he shivered while moving his mouth from her bruised lips towards her neck and collarbone area. He was too slow for her right now, so she took the highroad pulling her top over her own head as quick as it would disappear. The bulky article of clothing was gone, and before she knew it his hands were ripping the shirt under it over her head. That was the rage-filled Malfoy she knew.

His mouth found hers again while freeing himself, turning them around, and pushing her against the stairs now. She groaned, and not a sexually aroused growl; but more of an angry scowl as he glanced at her before kissing her again. She raked her nails down the front of his chest while biting at his neck. He bit his lip, trying hard not to give her any pleasure of making sounds.

So she bit harder, and raked more vigorous than before. From the depths of his throat he made some type of moan- and that's all she wanted. Without her notice, he easily undid her bra. It still lingered on her though, so he'd have to take care of that.

As Malfoy was kissing and biting, Hermione screamed. It was a scream of aggravation, anger, and in the back of her mind… guilt. She didn't care where she was anymore, whether it's on the side of a staircase or anywhere else- she just wanted something to cling to. So she wrapped her arms possessively around him, nails digging in his back. His hands were gripped on the sides of her pants bottoms, pulling down. Everything was going faster than it usually did.

She grabbed his face in a forceful kiss that she seemed to put all her good and bad emotions into, and she had no clue why. He did the same, and she wasn't about to comprehend what exactly was going on. She groped at his belt buckle easily disconnecting it.

He was biting again, and kissing her everywhere that he could reach. Her hands found his shoulders, but something gleamed in the light. She looked down at her left hand seeing the diamond mocking her from her fourth finger. More waves of every emotion began hitting her, and she looked to the distance behind him finding a small grandfather clock propped on the wall.

It was way after midnight, and she began to cry. He was still searching all over her with his mouth, and she cried more. Looking to the ceiling as she began wondering how she could be such a cruel individual.

When he looked up at her tear-covered face he stopped quicker than anything else. She cried harder when he did stop. His hands had detangled from her as he stepped back.

"What in Merlin's name is going on Granger…?"

But that's the last thing she wanted as she grabbed him pulling him forward again, hugging him close. He wasn't so much into an embrace, so his lips found hers again, roughly kissing her. She couldn't stop him anymore as his long, slender fingers began slowly teasing her entrance; easily making her ready for him. Hermione closed her eyes, but he growled.

"Open you're fucking eyes!" He ordered, and she kept them closed afraid that if she did, more tears would escape. "Open them Granger!"

Finally, she did and as he pulled his face to look at hers, she saw some unexplainable look that she had never seen him give her before.

The look she knew as not hunger- but something so different.

He looked away angrily and she couldn't understand why. He looked shocked too, as if something inside him had given himself away, but plunged into her harder and deeper than any previous time they had been in this position.

"Granger…" He hissed; his forehead was rested against hers as he pumped faster. Sweat was starting to form and dampen his platinum blond bangs which hung low in his face, almost hiding his eyes. She took her free hands pushing the bangs away and grabbing at his hair. This only provoked him to move faster.

It bothered her most as everything around her was ridiculing her; that she wished the ring on her left hand which shone so brightly- belonged to the evil man standing before her.

And not the man back at home.

**XXX**


End file.
